The mission came at dawn.
No horns. No warnings. Just a folded slip placed on the mess hall table where Eudora sat with bread in his mouth and blood still crusted on his sleeve from training.
> "Crypt of the First Root. Iron-tier squad. Deploy immediately. Recon, retrieval, report. If possible—seal."
He didn't flinch.
Didn't ask questions.
By now, he understood one thing about the Bound Path Guild:
If they sent you somewhere quiet, it meant something there used to scream.
---
The Squad
Three members were assigned.
Eudora.
Marx.
Cray.
Cray arrived with his usual silence, two knives strapped to his thigh, a third hidden in the fold of his cloak.
Marx showed late, eyes sunken. Pale. But his sword was clean. His boots laced.
Eudora barely looked at them.
"Mount up," he muttered.
The wagon was waiting.
---
The Journey
They rode in silence for two days across the burnt plains east of Velharra.
Nothing lived here—no grass, no birds, no clouds.
Only cinder.
The soil crunched underfoot like charred bone. At night, the stars were wrong—shaped in constellations Eudora didn't remember, even though he'd seen them in the previous life.
Something was off about this place.
Like the land was watching them. Waiting.
Even Marx said nothing.
On the third day, they reached the edge of a crater half-swallowed by dust.
At its center: a black stone door, half-buried in ash, marked with carvings that made Eudora's veins crawl.
The same language he saw in the ruins months ago.
The one his arms sometimes whispered in their scars.
> "This place remembers me," he thought.
And it hated him.
---
Inside the Crypt
The door opened with a push.
No lock. No resistance.
Just breathless dark swallowing the sunlight.
Cray dropped a stone wrapped in rune-cloth. It lit the path ahead in pulses of blue. They descended slowly, steps echoing against stone worn not by time—but by dragging.
The deeper they went, the colder it grew. Not ice-cold.
Death-cold.
No bodies. No bones. Just rows of statues—headless, kneeling in chains.
Eudora paused. One statue's hands were shaped like his.
Marx stepped closer. "This isn't a tomb."
Eudora shook his head. "It's a prison."
---
The Chamber Below
They reached a door made of pure ironwood, splintered from the inside.
Whatever had been trapped...
Was gone.
But something else remained.
In the center of the chamber sat a stone basin filled with black water. Thick. Still. Like oil.
Above it, carved into the ceiling, were the words:
> "Feed and Become."
Eudora's body pulsed.
His scars itched. His blood churned.
Marx reached for the basin.
"Don't," Eudora snapped.
But it was too late.
Marx touched the water—and screamed.
His hand melted where flesh met liquid, bone hissing as if dipped in acid. He dropped to his knees, howling.
Eudora rushed to him. Held him down.
Cray drew a dagger and circled the room, eyes flicking toward the walls, which now… moved.
Not walls.
Flesh.
Skin.
Veins.
This was no crypt.
It was a womb.
---
Breaking the Seal
Eudora dragged Marx back from the basin. His body was shaking. Eyes wide, bleeding at the corners.
"She showed me," he whispered.
Eudora froze. "Who?"
Marx didn't answer.
Just stared into the dark, mouth open in a silent scream.
Then the chamber shook.
A heartbeat.
The womb was waking.
Cray hurled a rune at the basin—it exploded in blue fire.
The water hissed. The walls screamed.
They ran.
---
Escape
By the time they reached the surface, the crater behind them had begun to collapse inward. The black stone door cracked in half. Smoke rose in spirals that didn't drift up—but down into the earth.
Whatever had been sleeping…
Was now aware.
And watching.
---
Back at the Guild
Marx didn't speak for two days.
He wouldn't sleep. Wouldn't eat.
When he finally spoke, he said one word:
"Mother."
And cried.
Eudora sat alone that night, in the edge of the training yard, carving into the dirt with a dagger.
The same symbol he'd seen in the crypt.
The same one his blood kept drawing.
Not a rune. Not a glyph.
A sigil.
Something calling.
And somewhere deep inside, that whisper returned:
> "You are my limb, not my child. You do not inherit. You obey."